Childish Notions
by Flaignhan
Summary: He's never been as brave as little Leo Fitz. [Spoilers for 1x21]


**A/N: **Be kind, this is my first foray into SHIELD fiction. Big spoilers for 1x21, proceed with caution.

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**Childish Notions**

**by Flaignhan**

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He wonders where his boundaries actually lie. Certainly further than he'd ever anticipated. There is a small, childish part of him that clings to the notion that they'll be able to get out of it, somehow. The two of them have always been so clever, and yet, at times, so infuriatingly stupid. It would be worth the hell from Garrett, to know that he isn't going to be the one responsible for those horrible phone calls home to their quaint little families, on the other side of the Atlantic. The pair of them are like a couple of kids, and he knows it shouldn't bother him, because they're SHIELD agents, they knew exactly what they signed up for, and yet, as he lays here, tossing and turning in the dark, cramped space of his bunk, he can't erase the image of their panic stricken faces from his mind. Their eyes shine brightly inside his head, glazed with tears of terror, all because of him. He can't bear it.

It's Fitz, for some strange reason who hurts the most. Fitz, the idiotic genius, who had so clearly been clinging to the hope that there was something in him that would explain all of this, some spark of redemption that would render his faith valid and reasonable. But Ward cannot offer him that. There is no redemption for him, not now. Not after he pulled that lever and sent them crashing into the ocean.

Their screams will haunt him forever, the sound of his own name, echoing in his ears, as Fitz begged for him to turn around and look at them.

But of course, had he done that, he would never have been able to go through with it. And Fitz knew that.

He covers his face with his hands and exhales slowly and steadily. Fitz. Little Leo Fitz. Fitz who had clung to a sandwich like it was a life support machine just because his precious Simmons had made it especially for him. Fitz who had been moments away from tossing himself out of a plane, with only a theoretical knowledge of how the parachutes operate, because he was so desperate to save his precious Simmons.

They're together, at least. He has given them that. Not much of a gift, but some consolation, he hopes.

Now that he thinks about it (he can do little else, he's tried) he realises it might have been the first time he's ever said no to Garrett. He has ignored certain parts of certain orders before, but outright defiance, that's something new. Something to think about. Not that it lasted. Perhaps he had felt bold, while Garrett was on his deathbed. Perhaps, for once, he was being brave. For one shining moment he had thought he might be able to brush the order of a sick and vindictive old man aside, let Fitz Simmons be a trite nuisance, easily ignored, until the storm faded and he could send them home on the quiet, having made them promise to be good little scientists who don't meddle with things from now on.

Little Leo Fitz. Three little words that he can't shake off. Little Leo Fitz had been the last of them to believe in him. The last one with his faith not even fractured by the events of the past few days, no matter what Skye, nor Coulson, or even his precious Simmons might have told him. Fitz had clung to that childish idea that he, Ward, was still the same old special ops guy who would sweep in and save the day with a few well placed punches and a couple of rounds of ammo. But the reality had been there, in those last few moments, in all its disgusting glory. Fitz had finally seen him for what he really was. A coward. A coward who follows his orders. A coward who still lays awake at night wondering if Buddy ever made it to a new home.

Fitz and Simmons will make it out okay. He has to believe that, perhaps in the same way that Fitz had to believe that he was still worth saving, or that it was all some elaborate double bluff, until the very end.

There had been a small part, a very tiny part of him, who was still that little kid who yelled about how unfair it was to be left alone in the woods, that had wished Garrett had died. Of course he had run to get the necessary lifesaving equipment from the lab, and of course he had told Raina to call Cybertek, but there had been a little voice in his head that had been praying he'd find a corpse when he returned, that he'd be too late, that it had been an unavoidable tragedy, that he would, at last, after fifteen years of dedicated service, be free.

He wishes he could be as brave as Fitz. Being confident in your ability to kill half a dozen men in thirty seconds is one thing, but it's a different kind of bravery to stand there, in the middle of a plane filled with armed enemy agents, and openly try to kill the guy in charge. It had shocked him, to say the least, and then Fitz had come out with those words, those six ridiculous words that might have been pulled right out of an eighties cop show.

"Looks like the joke's on you."

He screws his eyes tightly shut, fists clenched at his temples, as the words echo around in his head, in that soft Scottish accent, punctured with an uncharacteristic edge of venom. He would have laughed, had he not been so terrified that Garrett's death would see a couple of rounds emptied into both Fitz and Simmons before his very eyes without a moment's notice. And then came the words that had nearly broken him.

"You don't have to take orders from him anymore. Ward. Ward! Let him die, he deserves to die!"

He had considered it. The idea had already flashed across his own mind, it had just taken Fitz to say it aloud. For the briefest moment, he had considered grabbing that olive branch, proffered so selflessly by Fitz, and taking out every god damn Hydra agent on _their _plane. He had considered making the right choice, for once in his stupid, pathetic little life. But no. He couldn't do it. Of _course_ he couldn't do it. And it shouldn't come as a surprise.

He's never been as brave as little Leo Fitz.


End file.
